


Say my name

by millenniumfalcon



Series: London Loves [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, John Silver is a Little Shit, M/M, Masturbation, So Married, They are married, flint acts all grumpy but he's so in love and properly smitten and all aw, handjob, like he always is in my fics apparently, mmom, phonesex, silly little tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 13:05:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6986290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millenniumfalcon/pseuds/millenniumfalcon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"James bit down on his lip harder and leaned with his back against the wall of the corridor.<br/>'John, what do you want?'<br/>'You know what I want.' "</p><p>James is stuck in a boring business conference. Thankfully, he can always count on his husband to provide him with exciting distractions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Say my name

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Black Sails Merry Month Of Masturbation 2016.  
> Based on this prompt by thewalruscaptain on tumblr:  
> "I really need a Silverflint modern phonesex wank fic. For whatever reason, they’re not together, either one of them is out of town or at work and the other one calls up and they proceed to get the other off over the phone."  
> The title is from "Spectrum" By Florence + The Machine, because it's absolutely perfect.  
> Many thanks to Jo ([starscollision](http://archiveofourown.org/users/starscollision)) for reading this in advance and convincing me to post it <3

"To put it simply, the goal we set out to achieve is to exploit a current failing in traditional marketing strategies, in order to instead offer our clients the most innovative and creative solutions to better their investments..."

 

James Flint had been to an unspecified but certainly really high number of business conferences and such, but this took the bloody cake for the most fucking boring thing he had ever been forced to attend. Fuck.

He let out a frustrated groan as he uncrossed and crossed his legs again for the billionth time, trying with very little success to accommodate his limbs into a comfortable position - which was basically an impossible feat, considering the hardness of the metal-and-plastic chairs they had all been seated on.

The conference room they had been assigned to was quite large but - as the nonsensical marvels of modern architecture would have it - it was cursed with a very low ceiling, which made the room feel stuffy no matter how fiercely the air conditioner blew cool air down on them.

There must have been around thirty people, sitting in three rows of those torturous chairs and pretending to listen attentively to whatever nonsense about marketing and product management was the fashion right now. The thing was, they all knew how to do their jobs. They were all senior employees of their firm, having years of experience behind them, so they all knew what they were doing and they also knew that all this talk about new miraculous strategies was essentially rubbish. What mattered most was to understand what you had to sell and to whom you had to sell it, and act accordingly. The rest was all just silly frills. It was a damn mystery to everyone, why their boss would keep inflicting on them these conferences and seminars with experts that always turned out to be much less expert than them. Sadly, as long as things were like that, there was no easy way out: they would simply have to endure it all, boring lectures and uncomfortable chairs. 

In an attempt to keep himself awake, James looked around him, searching for an amusing detail or something to occupy his mind for a couple of minutes. All his eyes were met with, however, were faces that looked just as bored as he felt; some of his colleagues had given up on any pretense to be actually listening, intently staring instead at the ceiling or out of the window or looking ready to doze off at any second. He exchanged a few sympathetic glances, because solidarity at the work place was really important, right?

He turned his head towards the speaker. He had now pulled up a graph on the screen behind him and was proceeding to illustrate the perfectly obvious results of a perfectly useless survey he had conducted. James rolled his eyes as far up as they would go, not even caring to look rude.

He needed to find something to focus on or he was going to start yelling his lungs out at any moment.

Without worrying too much about whether or not the speaker was gonna notice it (what with him sitting in the front row and all), he pushed his hand in the pocket of his jacket and closed his fingers around his phone.

Bloody hell, he felt like a teenager in high school texting their girlfriend or boyfriend in the middle of class.

At least he had no girlfriend of boyfriend to send embarrassing texts to, he thought as he lit up the screen.

John's name flashed across it as he was informed that he had three unread messages from him, as well as five missed calls.

Damn. Now that he thought about it, having a husband was actually worse than having a boyfriend or a girlfriend.

He sighed and swiped his thumb on the screen to open the texts. 

 

_John 10:50 a.m._

_"James, please call me as soon as you can"_

_John 10:56 a.m._

_"Actually, you might wanna call me straight away"_

_John 10:58 a.m._

_"Seriously, please call me. Now. Please!"_

As he read, James felt a cold, shrill sense of panic settle deep inside his chest. Something must have happened. A number of tragic scenarios started playing out in his head - no, he needed to breathe and calm down. It was probably something trivial and easy, something rather silly, probably. But what if it wasn't? What if something truly bad had happened? What if John was hurt?

James felt out of breath as he checked the time: it was five past eleven. John's last text had been seven minutes ago, his last call 5 minutes ago.

Without worrying at all that he was disrupting the conference, he sprung up from his chair, grabbed his jacket and flung himself out of the room into the neon-lit, pristine corridor.  He hurried through it as he fumbled with his phone to call John back. Every ring just added to the feeling of uneasiness that had begun to settle in his stomach, no matter how hard he was trying to tell himself that he was just being silly and it was probably nothing so catastrophic.

John picked up on the fifth ring.

"What happened? Are you alright?"

There was a pause at the other end of the line, and then what was unmistakably the weird nasal noise John made when he was trying not to laugh.

Oh god, really?!

"Really?!"

"You were actually worried! How cute is that? Serves you well for all the times you insist you don't love me at all."

"Well, I don't, especially not now. I was at a fucking conference and you bloody knew it, you twat! Had me run out of the room like an idiot..."

This time, John made no attempt whatsoever to conceal his amusement.

"Cuter and cuter! Listen to yourself, you couldn't bear the thought of your darling husband possibly in distress or pain or --"

"Can you fucking shut up already?" James cut him off, feeling the urge to slap the smirk off his face. Such a pity that you can't slap people over the phone.

"Okay", John snickered and said nothing else.

James sighed in frustration, waiting for an explanation (or anything, really), but knowing very well that the line would stay silent until he gave in and asked.

He resisted for about forty-five seconds.

"Why did you call me, anyway?"

When he answered, after a brief pause, John's voice was suddenly drawn-out and languid, dripping with something quite akin to mischief.

"Oh, nothing in particular... But you know, you left in such a hurry this morning that I didn't even have time to properly wish you a good day."

Oh, well.

James cleared his throat and feigned obliviousness.

"Well, I left early because I had to be here for the conference. You know, that conference you just pulled me out of."

"I bet it was fucking boring anyway."

James bit his lip and stubbornly refused to give in to John's provocation - not just yet, at least.

"No, actually. No, it was very interesting, I was incredibly... uhm, interested."

John laughed and it felt as near as though he was right by his side.

"Sure you were. More interested in a boring middle-aged guy and his boring graphs, than you are interested in me?"

James bit down on his lip harder and leaned with his back against the wall of the corridor.

"John, what do you want?"

"You know what I want."

John's voice was a low and suggestive whisper that poured into his ear and travelled all through his body, awakening his senses and leaving goosebumps in its wake.

James knew that there would never come a time when he would be indifferent to that voice, in any and all of its shades of inflection.

"Give me a moment."

He felt his breath quicken in anticipation as he crossed the corridor again and headed towards the bathroom, phone still pressed to his ear. He could hear John's breathing, both the most familiar and the most exciting sound in the world.

Once he reached the bathroom, he picked the stall in the furthest corner from the door and locked himself in.

"John", he whispered. "What do you want?"

He heard a rustling sound on the other end of the line, like sheets being pushed away, the bed creaking under the weight of a body changing position.

(They needed to buy a new bed: this one creaked too much.)

"I want you", John answered with a breathy voice. "I want your taste in my mouth and your hands on my body and your tongue on my skin. I want your low moans and the scrape of your teeth on my neck. I want to feel your weight on me, I want to only feel you around me."

James closed his eyes as his hand inched down on the front of his pants. He placed his open palm over the outline of his cock, growing harder and harder at every whispered word John uttered.

"I want you to fuck me hard into the mattress while I call your name because that's the only word that makes sense."

James let out a shaky breath as he unbuttoned his trousers and slipped his hand inside his boxers, shuddering with relief as his fingers wrapped around his erection.

"I want your swollen lips, your whimpers and your nails scratching at my back", James let out in a throaty breath. He pressed his phone harder to his ear and greedily drank in John's quiet sounds and shallow breaths. "I want to stretch you up with my tongue and drive you to the edge, slow down and start again."

John moaned keenly, in the most delicious way James had ever heard.

"God, James... I want you to fuck me on the table when you come home. Please."

James bit his lip to keep himself from being too loud, his hand picking up speed as he stroke his cock, every now and then swiping his thumb over the head, spreading the precome and making each stroke slicker.

"I'll bend you down over it as soon as I set foot in the house."

It was getting harder to fully articulate words, his voice slipping over syllables, the small stall adding to the feeling of the oxygen lacking.

John let out a hungry moan, his uneven breaths sending jolts through James' body.

"Please - James - I want you to do me so good that I'll always remember the feeling of having you inside me."

James bit down harder on his lower lip, pumping his hand faster, his hips snapping up to meet the movement.

"I'll fuck you until your thighs shake. And then I'll get down on my knees for you and blow you until you come."

John's moans kept getting higher and louder, and James loved very few things in the world as much as he loved the feeling of being the cause of those perfectly wrecked sounds.

His heart was beating wildly inside his chest as he savoured every precious noise that fell from John's lips, his skin on fire and his mind a vortex of images and sensations - his hands messing up dark luscious curls, golden skin damp with sweat, light blue eyes tightly shut, lean muscles and smooth skin under his tongue, the smell of their sheets after a whole Sunday spent in bed.

His hips picked up a frantic pace as he thrust into his hand, thinking of the soft swell of John's arse and the firm feeling of holding onto his hips.

"John," he moaned brokenly.

When he answered with an equally broken "Yes, James", John sounded lost and yet impossibly close to him, as if he had found a little hole somewhere inside James' core and had climbed right in it, never to leave. (He probably had.)

The air felt damper and damper against his flushed neck, and it was now impossibly difficult to keep quiet.

"Want to hear you," James breathed out. "Every filthy noise you make, every moan."

John whined and moaned obediently, his keening sounds mixed with the creaking of the bed and the rustle of the sheets and the slide of skin on skin. James could hear it all - maybe because it was all so familiar to him that his brain supplied the missing sounds to perfectly complete the picture, or maybe it was actually just because John was always incredibly messy and loud.

"Please come home, James, I need your cock inside me. I need you."

James cursed under his breath as he thrust harder than ever, John's soft and pleading tone making his cock twitch and pulse in his hand. He was right on the edge now, a pool of dense heat building up and growing inside him.

"Fuck, you sound so hot and wrecked," he uttered with a raspy voice.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he heard John's breaths become ever faster and his moans louder and higher as he reached his orgasm, desperately chanting his name like a heathen prayer.

John's voice, when it became so slight and fragile with overwhelming pleasure, was the purest expression of lust that James had ever encountered. With a few more quick strokes, as he listened to John repeat his name over and over like he had forgotten any other word and didn't care, James came and spilled all over his fist, his mouth open and slack with the force of the orgasm, his breath hitched deep in his throat.

Pleasure left him feeling spent, his head abandoned against the wall of the stall, eyes still closed and lips dry with such heavy breathing.

John sounded just as blissed out and out of breath, when he finally broke the silence with slow words stumbling out of his lips.

"So... Do you still think your conference was more interesting?"

James huffed out a breath. "You're a fucking idiot," he retorted with a playful smile clear in his voice.

John laughed airily at that, a sound as light as spring winds, as bright as the summer sun.

"Shut up, you love me."

"... Yeah."

They stayed on the phone for a few more seconds, in silence, listening to each other's quiet, sated smiles.

Eventually, James hung up and set himself to the ungrateful task of cleaning himself up.

He definitely had to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed this!  
> As always, if you wanna talk about silly pirates and all that jazz, you can find me on tumblr as calicocaptain  
> xx


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